


My Angels & Demons

by fiathefangirl67



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Conscience, Darknesss, Demon Jackson Whittemore, Demon Stiles Stilinski, Demons, Eventual Angel stiles, Gen, Supernatural Elements, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:49:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiathefangirl67/pseuds/fiathefangirl67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after the end of season 3a. The darkness around Stile's heart has always been there since the night his mother died, so what happens after it gets stronger after the ice bath. Will Stiles be crushed as his demons take form, or can his angels save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Angels & Demons

**Author's Note:**

> This was just an idea that popped into my head, I do plan on adding to it.

Time is slower in nightmares; the gap between each tic grew every second. It’s driving me insane.

 

It’s dark and lifeless as if I’m stuck in a void and can’t move, but even if I could where would I go; there’s nothing, just black. But something has to be there cause he can feel it all of a sudden, but somehow it’s like it’s always been there. Like I’ve been lying down against something for hours and my body is all-sore, struggling to get up.

 I feel the cut of the straps that are binding me down by my arms and legs, cutting against my skin. Wrapped around so tight, cutting of my circulation that can’t even manage to move my fingers.

 

All I can do is tilt my head up just enough to watch as my chest heaves up and down with each struggled breath. Because the air feels heavy and thick and my skin burns from it as if each one of my pores is blocked by a tiny needle that is sucking the life out of me drop by drop. I close my eyes and try to calm down, make this awful nightmare go away

 

I can hear someone, a light humming.

 

 A constant light humming, a tune that I’ve heard a lot these past few months. It’s simple, just a basic melody that people use to keep themselves busy as they work on the mundane things in life. I can also hear myself breathing, labored breaths that crack because my throat is sore as if I have been screaming. I haven’t though because I would have heard, but I didn’t and my ears ring as if they miss the silence.

 

I open my eyes, but I can’t even remember closing them.

 

 I want to close them; but the air is weighs down against my eyes forcing my eyelids back and tears start to fall out of the corner of my eyes burning like acid against my skin as they make their way down the sides of my face leaving ugly red streaks behind them.

 

 The lights are now on and I can see, but it’s pale and yellow as if the entire room is sick. I can see the rusty sink that water drips into with same pace as the ticking of the clock.

 

I can see a cheap table with all sorts of sharp instruments on them, like the ones you see at the doctor’s office but with a sinister gleam. And the longer I stare at them the louder screams get and I can see unknown faces staring back at me and they’re screaming but their mouths aren’t moving. Just blank faces, their features dead, except their stare. Their eyes hold pure terror, as if the expression is tattooed on.

 

And they scream louder and louder and louder… but not as loud as the occasional tic of the clock comes. Minutes seem to pass between every bold tic, until it stops, and there’s a sharp pinch and everything’s silent and dark and nothing again as if someone had flipped a switch.

 

As quickly as it ended it’s all back with another tic of the clock the lights, the humming, the needles, the sink, the binds, the humming, the ticking, the screaming, the humming… it’s all back and my head is spinning. He’s there now just like he was the other day; dressed in colorless green scrubs that give off a funny smell and gives me a headache; in his hands he holds the same needle, the liquid inside isn’t clear anymore it’s a color that I don’t know how to label and hurts my eyes; but it’s his eyes that scare me the most because they’re empty.

 

 Just like the same emptiness he had been stuck in earlier.

 

The man, the doctor, keeps humming as if everything’s all right, but it’s not. She’s gone and I’m scared.

 

 He’s empty and cold and dark. And his eye’s are like the windows that view into an empty shell.

 

The doctor’s hands are moving, uncapping the syringe.

 

“It’ll all be better now, Stiles. It’s all over “, He says, mocking an earlier version of himself.

 

Then there’s nothing. I’m gone, but he’s still there. And I’m still here, but empty just like him.

 

When I opened my eyes again I was surrounded in warmth, but it didn’t have the scratchy feel of my worn out batman sheets.

 

It was a different kind of warmth; like the feeling you get when someone’s really proud of you or when your mom gives you a hug in the morning. I could no longer get morning hugs. It was all gone the morning hugs, the kiss goodnight, the bed time stories, the ditching school to go to the mall or the grocery store or wherever she needed to go but didn’t want to go alone.

 

The air chilled a bit at the thought of her, and a shiver jolted me awake. The warmth was still there, just a bit cooler now.

 

I’m sitting in a field of golden grass; the sky is light blue with no sun or clouds just blue. A little girl who looks just a couple years younger than me, sits in front of me, only about 2 feet of the golden grass between us.

 

She was pretty with almost porcelain like skin, dotted with moles and freckles, and soft brown hair that even braided reached her waist. She wore a green cotton dress with sunflowers along the trim. Her eyes a chocolate brown, made to look like amber honey in the sun.

 

I feel like I could recognize her face from somewhere, but didn’t know where.

 

She stood up and closed up the space between us, trapping me in a tight embrace, forcing my head to rest against her shoulder.  Strand of her long hair stuck against my teary wet cheek.

 

“It’s going to be okay, Stiles. Everything will workout eventually. “, Her voice sounding like reassuring blanket.

 

“How can you know that? “ I whispered barely loud enough for myself to hear.

 

She broke the embrace, peeling my face away from her shoulder, looked at me and gave me a small smile.

 

“Trust me.” And I did; somehow, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind.

 

 

 

-

 

 That was nine years ago. A lot of things have happened in the past nine years. There were dreams; good and bad. There were people who came and went. There was Scott and the werewolf bite. There was the Kanima and the Alpha Pack. And there was the sacrifice and the darkness that came with it.

 

I could feel it from the minute I stepped out of the tub that night at Deatons. A lock was broken that night, a door that I just had to keep closed with something pushing against it.

 

Something bad, really bad; that I couldn’t allow to get out.

 

At first I could do it, weigh myself against it and keep it shut, but I could feel myself getting tired. I had tried so hard to keep it shut, but I needed to rest.

 

So I fell and the darkness burst through and ate away at my insides until I was empty.


End file.
